


The Tapestry of New Beginnings

by raiyana



Series: Tales from Rohan [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Rohan, Shieldmaidens, Shieldmaidens in history, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 17:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20568065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: Éowyn finds a tapestry - and her fate changes before her eyes





	The Tapestry of New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zdenka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/gifts).

> Fengel did have two daughters before Thengel was born - no names are given for them, so I've taken a bit of poetic liberty there ;)

“Here you are, little cousin,” Théodred said, his large hand landing on Éowyn’s shoulder and squeezing once. “Were you not hungry?”

Éowyn shook her head. She was, a bit, but she didn’t want to walk into the large hall with all the strange people who looked at her with pity.

She didn’t want to be an orphan, she didn’t want to be pitied, and she didn’t want to be in Edoras – she wanted to be _home_.

“Aye, well, then,” Théodred murmured. Gesturing at the one she had stopped at, the woman on a large horse girdled with sword-belt and a shield upon her arm, hair as golden as Éowyn’s own, he added, “Do you like the tapestries? These are all heroes of the past, you know, our history.”

She had stopped by this one because it looked like mother.

“Mother said she would teach me to make tapestries with heroes,” Éowyn offered shyly, holding back tears at the sudden reminder that Théodwyn was _gone_. There would be no more winter afternoons spent listening to the stories of the women working together in her mother’s solar, and no sweet toffees as rewards for being good at the embroidery.

“Théodwyn was most skilled with the loom,” her big cousin nodded, “her work adorns many of the walls in Meduseld.”

Éowyn nodded. She didn’t want to think about the solar at home, didn’t want to think about how the women would be gathering there, just like they always did… except not, because mother wouldn’t be there. She missed them – old Gyta who had only two teeth left in her mouth, and Æthelflæd with the thick braids, and even stupid Hlédis who had pushed her into a puddle of mud during last market day.

“This is Fastridh Shieldmaiden, Éowyn,” Théodred said, looking at the woven tapestry. “Daughter of Fengel King, and sister to our own grandsire, Thengel.”

“Shieldmaiden?” Almost despite herself, Éowyn felt interested in this long-dead relation; Shieldmaidens were brave warriors, she knew, riding out with the éoreds and fighting alongside the Riders.

“Named after her uncle Fastred,” Théodred said, “who was slain by the wicked Easterlings when he rode to defend Gondor against invasion. A wildling girl from birth, Fengel King named her for the uncle she resembled in temper.”

The woman rendered in thread before them had a fierce look in her face, a warrior’s face if Éowyn was any judge.

“She was skilled in the sword and lance,” Theodred continued, “and won much renown in the field as well as at tourney – Princess Fastridh was known all the way in Gondor for her prowess.” He grinned down at her, and Éowyn had to smile back. “Did you know she turned down the Steward’s hand in marriage four times?” Théodred chuckled.

Éowyn shook her head, gaping at the woman in the tapestry. “Was he not angry – was her father not angry, too?” she wondered.

“Oh, the Steward, aye,” Théodred shrugged, “I shouldn’t wonder if he was livid. But Fengel indulged her – more than any of his children, he loved Fastridh, and decreed that if she would wed, she would wed of her own choosing, he’d not force her.”

“Did she?” It seemed odd – father had already begun looking for prospective suitors for _her_, after all, and so had the fathers of her best friends in Aldburg – but maybe the rules were different for princesses.

“Never,” Théodred shrugged, “even though our grandsire Thengel offered to find her good husband many times.” He chuckled. “But Fastridh was a determined lady – she had her shieldmaiden companions, she said, and needed no man. A lot of the Shieldmaidens of old remained unwed until they did not care to ride for war anymore; it was more common for ladies to be warriors, then.”

“I want to be a Shieldmaiden,” Éowyn whispered, imagining herself in the woman’s place on the tapestry – it _did_ look a bit like her, she thought, with the hair. Maybe if… “If I am a warrior, _my_ husband won’t die to Orcs because _I_ will fight with him.”

Théodred did not laugh at her. Éowyn smiled up at him.

Lowering himself enough that he could look her in the eye, Theodred smiled. “Regardless,” he said, seeming to talk to himself more than to her, “being able to defend yourself with a blade is something all people should learn. A time may come when you’ve need and none other to provide for you… so be it. We shall start tomorrow; you can have my old sword.”

Éowyn nodded once, sealing the agreement.

Then she hugged him.


End file.
